


No Ordinary Woman

by adamwhatareyouevendoing



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, alternate episode 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamwhatareyouevendoing/pseuds/adamwhatareyouevendoing
Summary: “But I did not fall in love with an ordinary woman. The person I fell in love with is every inch a queen.”
An insight into Victoria and Melbourne’s engagement, and eventual marriage. (Episode 5 Vicbourne AU).





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a world where Lord M eventually accepts that he is what Victoria wants and deserves, and he agrees to marry her.
> 
> I’ve adapted some of these lines from the show itself, because throughout Victoria and Albert’s scenes, I couldn’t help but think they would be so much better if they were between her and Lord M instead.

The morning after their engagement, Melbourne calls at the palace. As he rides out with the Queen most mornings, such an appearance does not arouse suspicion. No one feels the need to chaperone her as she walks out to welcome him.

“Good morning, Ma’am,” he greets her, immediately dropping to his knee to kiss her hand.

“You cannot keep calling me Ma’am once we’re married, William,” she scolds playfully, careful to keep her voice low.

“I know,” he says. It will be a habit that is hard to break. “Until then though, I remain your loyal subject, and will continue to address you as such... Ma’am,” he adds teasingly. “Shall we take a walk?” he asks, offering up his arm for her to take.

Once they are far enough away from the House to be safe from prying eyes and ears, talk turns to their impending nuptials.

“I have not yet told Mama,” she admits. “Will you be there with me when I do?”

“If you want me to be, then I shall,” he reassures her.

She squeezes his arm in a silent gesture of thanks. “There is so much to think about, isn’t there?” she says, and although her voice contains a trace of nervousness, there is also a joy in her expression that cannot be suppressed.

He still finds it amazing that he is the cause of that happiness. He has known since the day he met her that she would brighten his life and give it reason again, but he is only just beginning to realise that perhaps he has also been that for her.

 

***

 

On the walk back towards the palace, a sudden thought occurs to her, and she stops in her tracks. The unexpected motion brings him around to face her, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You will have to resign I suppose?” Her voice is measured.

“It was only a matter of time anyway,” he tells her. “Support for the party has waned considerably. We would only have lasted for a couple more terms, if that. Besides,” he smiles, “I do not mind leaving under these circumstances.”

She takes one of his hands between both of her own gloved ones. “I sometimes wish I were an ordinary woman, then it would not have to be so difficult.”

He raises his free hand, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “But I did not fall in love with an ordinary woman. The person I fell in love with is every inch a queen.”

 

***

 

“It will be strange,” she muses the next morning, “having to ask the Privy Council’s permission to marry you whilst you’re standing in the room.”

“I can always face the wall, if that would help?” he teases.

It is only when they are about to face the room that her confidence wavers for the first time.

“Is this really necessary?” Her eyes search his desperately. “Surely whom I marry is my decision?”

He smiles reassuringly, despite the nerves lining his own stomach. “Of course it is. I know that more than most.” He is pleased that she smiles back at his gentle jibe—a reminder of her persistent attempts to convince him to cast duty aside and accept that she cannot be without him. “Nevertheless, we do need the approval of the Privy Council.”

She nods, and he can see the determination return as she raises her chin to draw herself up to her full height. This is the Queen Victoria she was born to be.

 

***

 

Once everybody knows, it seems they cannot get a moment of peace alone. The Queen’s ladies become a constant chaperone, and it seems whomever they pass has a question about the wedding that needs to be resolved.

It is strange perhaps that he is in attendance during these discussions as to her plans. But, as her private secretary, it is still his job to organise her engagements, even as this extends to discussing their wedding as though he is an outsider.

If they find it strange, the Lord Chamberlain must find it more so. It is clear from the bemused expression on his face that he does not quite know how to read the Queen.

“Royal weddings usually take place in the evening, Ma’am,” he tells her.

“In the evening?” she looks questioningly at Melbourne.

In all their discussions, he had not quite been brave enough to mention that, for the reason he fears will now become apparent.

“It has been the custom that the courtiers put the royal couple to bed,” the Lord blusters.

They share an amused look. “They were more direct times, Ma’am,” Melbourne says, managing to keep his voice level even though the thought sends a thrill through him. He feels a heat suffuse his cheeks, but luckily she has turned away.

“As to the ceremony itself,” the Lord Chamberlain continues, seemingly eager to move the conversation on. “I think in the circumstances you might want to omit the line about obeying your husband.”

But, once again, the Lord has misread her.

“When I marry, it will be as a woman who loves her husband, nothing more,” she says archly. Her gaze drifts to Melbourne, and her voice softens considerably. These words are meant only for him. “I will promise myself in the way that every bride does – to love, honour, _and_ obey.”

 

***

 

He has not seen her for a few days. Parliament, it seems, has conspired to keep him busy at a time when all he wants is to be with his Queen. Admittedly, that has always been the case, but it is even more true now.

Thankfully, business resolves a week before they are due to be married, and he is able to call on her at the palace.

She flies out of her chair the moment he is announced into the room, uncaring that her exuberant reaction may not be deemed proper behaviour for a queen.

“Lord M,” she smiles. At least she has not completely forgotten herself. “I trust everything in Parliament has been resolved?”

He bows low. “It has, Ma’am.” They cannot speak more openly with an audience. “Although, I do apologise, I cannot stay long today – I must return to Brocket Hall to put my affairs in order.”

“But I have hardly seen you,” she pouts.

“I know.” It pains him as much as it must pain her. He cannot recall the precise moment in which he realised he could not live without her, but he had known it for certain the day he watched her walk away from him at Brocket Hall. “But, once I return, we do not ever have to be without each other.”

“I’ll miss you,” she murmurs, as they part on the steps.

His face shows disbelief, as it did the first time she expressed such a sentiment. “I’ll only be gone for a couple of days,” he says, but cannot deny that her words warm his heart.

 

***

 

“Dear William,” she breathes in relief, once they are reunited. “I have missed you.”

He kisses her hand. “And I you, Ma’am.”

Her Ladies are a few steps behind, but politely pretend to be deep in conversation and allow them a moment of privacy, even as his servants bustle around them.

“Your belongings?” she asks, watching box after box being carried out of the carriages. The breeze whips a few loose strands of hair across her face.

He reaches forwards to gently tuck the offending hairs behind her ear. “Everything but the glasshouses themselves.”

“You will have to use the glasshouses here,” she tells him. “I wouldn’t want you to stop doing something you enjoy.”

“I would like that,” he says. He looks down for a moment. “On that note”—he beckons to one of his servants—“I have something for you.” The man steps forwards, holding a box. Melbourne thanks him, and passes it over to her. “I thought, if you are to be an ordinary woman tomorrow, you might prefer… Well.” He gestures for her to open the box.

“Oh, how lovely,” she cries, upon seeing the wreath.

He cannot help but smile at the look of sheer delight on her face. “I thought you might like to wear it in place of a crown.”

She touches the petals with a gentle finger. “They’re beautiful. What are they?”

“They’re orange blossoms.”

She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling. “What do they symbolise?”

She knows him so well, he thinks. Before she had officially asked him to marry her, he had thought he would spend his life expressing his feelings through flowers. Now, he never needs to hide those feelings again, and yet as this is something he can give her, he will continue to do so.

“Marriage and eternal love,” he murmurs.

“Perfect,” she whispers.

 

***

 

It is the most exquisite torture, to know that she is walking up the aisle, and yet be unable to turn around. It feels like an age before she is finally next to him, but the wait is worth it. He turns to look at her, and it is though he is looking at the sun. She is radiant.

The ceremony begins, and he must look away from her once more.

“William, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” He has never meant anything with as much sincerity.

He can see her smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Victoria, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey and serve him, love, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” She looks up at him, love shining in her eyes. He knows his are reflecting the same.

He picks up the ring with shaking fingers. “With this ring, I thee wed, and with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

“I pronounce that they be man and wife together,” the Bishop declares.

She smiles up at him. He longs to kiss her.

 

***

 

Only a door separates them now. It is the last time they will ever be separated on this Earth.

His hand stills on the doorknob, slowly warming the cool metal in his hesitation. He has been in this position before of course, but not with her. He never allowed himself to hope that it would be with her.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. And there she is, sat on the edge of her bed. She is a vision in white—a pure angel, _his_ angel.

Slowly, she rises. He crosses the room, as though drawn by an invisible thread towards her. Even in the dim candlelit room, her eyes call to him. She looks as nervous as he feels.

It almost feels wrong to reach out, to touch the bare skin of her shoulder for the first time. Wrong, but oh so right. He is her husband now—this is allowed. The thought sends a thrill through him.

Slowly, tenderly, he draws his fingers across her collarbone, up the strong arch of her neck, rubbing his thumb gently across her jaw in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture. He feels her shiver beneath his fingers.

“Victoria,” he murmurs, her name like a prayer on his tongue.

She shivers again, but now there is no nervousness in her eyes, only fire. He feels an answering pull deep within himself.

“May I…?” he whispers. His thumb ghosts across her lips.

They are so close now. Her eyes flit searchingly between his own. At last, she nods.

Her soft hair slides between his fingers as he guides her to him—to press their lips together for the first time. She makes a soft noise of contentment against his skin.

“William,” she whispers, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

And slowly, together, they guide each other down onto the bed.

 


End file.
